


Master of Death

by orphan_account



Series: Master of Death 'verse [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Rebirth, Harry is reborn, M/M, Master of Death Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-11-07 09:48:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11056440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Harry dies, but is given a second chance by the Fates to live as Dick Grayson. After his mother dies, he is adopted by Bruce Wayne. Who knows what will happen?





	1. Chapter 1

Harry stood in the white King's Cross station that he now knew to be Limbo. He glanced around, waiting for someone to come to lead him to the afterlife. Instead, a white-haired, pale green eyed woman appeared. She looked to be in her twenties. _Greetings, Phoenix Mage._ She said, her voice resonating through the air. "Who are you, and what is a Phoenix Mage?" Harry asked, tilting his head to the side in confusion. _I am the Fates, little hatchling, and a Phoenix Mage is a child born of destiny who control the elements. You control water._ "Oh," he said. "Why am I here?" _Your destiny was meddled with. I am here to offer you a second chance at life._ "If I do decide to accept your offer, will I retain my magic and parseltongue abilities?" _Yes._ "I won't be in the same universe, will I?" he asked, already knowing the answer. It didn't matter, though, because Granger and the Weasleys had only been gold(or in Ron's case, fame)-diggers. He wouldn't miss them as far as he could throw them. _No_ , she said. Squaring his shoulders, he looked the Fates straight in the eye. "I accept."

* * *

"Richard, wake up, we've arrived at Gotham," his mother called. "Kay, mom, I'm coming!" he shouted back, discreetly using magic to transfigure his clothes into white tights and a blue leotard. He pirouetted across the room to the full-sized mirror, then spun once again just for fun. He loved being a kid, but he liked being an acrobat even more. Something about the sensation of flying through the air, knowing that, no matter what, his mother would always catch him. It was even better then flying on a broom, and Dumb-as-a-door wasn't there to meddle with his life. It was heaven. Harry, or Richard "Dick" Grayson, as he was named in this reality skipped out onto the backstage area. His mother was there, waiting for him. Behind her was a poster that read in bright lettering, _Haley's Circus- Featuring the Flying Graysons!_ It was time to preform.

* * *

He didn't know when, but at some point a fire broke out, tongues of flames lapping at and eating anything they touched. He choked as he accidentally inhaled a breath of air and smoke. He could feel himself beginning to over-heat, his Water-Phoenix half shrieking in terror as the inferno grew. His mom had already been burn to ashes, and nothing he was throwing at it made any difference. He suspected that some idiot had found a way to replicate Fiendfyre, hence why his magic was doing nothing against it. His mind was feeling foggy, and dark spots began to dance across his vision. There was no way he could escape, except appiration. He hadn't ever mastered the technique, but it was worth a try. Steadying himself, he spun on one foot and vaguely heard a slight _crack!_ Before he fainted, Dick allowed himself a small smile of triumph.

* * *

"Wake up, boy." a gruff voice said, dragging Dick from the deep darkness of sleep. "Wh-who are you?," he asked, voice raspy, most likely from smoke inhalation. A man with greying hair and brown-rimmed glasses, presumably the one who had woken him answered. "I'm Jim Gordon of the G.C.D.P. And you are...?" Dick shrugged. It couldn't hurt to tell him. "Richard Grayson." he replied. "There's someone who would like to see you, Mr. Grayson," he said, gesturing towards the door. "You can wait a little, or meet him now." "Er, now, if you don't mind, please." Mr. Gordon left, and a handsome, blue eyed, raven haired man entered. Dick sat at the edge of the chair, ready for a long conversation.

* * *

In the end, Dick was adopted by one Bruce Wayne. He was _still_ having a hard time not staring at the young billionaire. He sighed. Merlin, how he had not missed being thirteen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT-9/8/17  
> Went through and fixed some grammar/spelling errors.

Dick sighed once more, stifling a yawn. School, while something he excelled at, was _extremely_ tedious. Between the drone of the teacher's voice and the buzz of the light fixture, he was surprised that he hadn't gone crazy yet. In only a few minutes, he would have to go back to the Manor and its expensive suits and cold, white marble floors. In many ways, it reminded him of Malfoy Manor, if not for the butler Alfred. Alfred Pennyworth was an odd character, with his sarcastic comments disguised as polite remarks and his uncanny ability to appear whenever anyone needed anything. If he hadn't already done a scan to check, Dick would've sworn that he was a magical. Back to the problem at hand though. As one of the (few)Most Noble and Ancient Houses(because, apparently, that existed in Gotham) they were expected to throw a ball for _everything_. This meant, that, on every day of the week, he was supposed to wear a suit inside the house. Dick, having lived as an acrobat for nine years of his life found dress suits hot, itchy, and very restrictive. It was all he could do to prevent himself from using his Phoenix Mage powers to coat his skin in a thin protective layer of water as it would ruin the suit, and then Alfred would glare at him. Dick shuddered at the thought. Cor, Alfred's glares were a _lot_ scarier the Voldemort. The bell rang, jolting him out of his thoughts and inciting a mass rush towards the door. Being more sensible than the rest of his peers, Dick waited a minute and a half before he got up to leave. A slight whir sounded behind him, and he turned. This was a mistake, as in the three seconds he did nothing besides frown, the "teacher" morphed into a serpent thing that, if his memories were correct, was the Greek Lamia*. "Seriously, why do you Greeks hate so much?" Dick wondered aloud, dodging as the snake-lady tossed a throwing knife at him. She hissed in anger as he dodged two more and brought up a protego to deflect a third."I mean," he continued, "all I ever did was _not_ get killed by your colleagues." he cast a jelly-legs jinx at her, idly wondering if it would work, as she _had_ no legs. It didn't do anything but enrage her more. "This is bor- _ing._ " he announced, "you haven't even said anything yet." Eventually, he simply charmed a dreamless-sleep potion into her stomach, knocking her out almost immediately. He sighed for the _n_ th time that day, dragging her into his backpack, which was a carry-with-you version of the Room of Requirement, except that you had to have never have had ill intentions towards the owner to be able to access its RoR qualities. Dick spun on his heel and disappeared.

* * *

Alfred, unsurprisingly, was the first to notice that the backpack seemed to be jumping up and down slightly when Dick set it down. "Master Richard," he said sternly, a hint of disapproval in his voice, "why is your bag jumping?" Dick panicked slightly, then remembered that he had rescued a small kitten on the way home and put it in the animal section. "Oh, umm, I kind of brought a cat home?" he said and began to panic again when the butler raised an eyebrow at him disbelievingly. Dick reached into his backpack and-

pulled out an adorable black and blue-grey kitten.

Alfred's other eyebrow began its rapid ascent to join the first. Uh oh. Not good, not good at _all._ He seemed to be about to say something when Bruce walked into the room. Bruce's gaze slid over Dick, then stopped. "What. Is. That?" he asked. Dick held the kitten out to him and prayed that he wouldn't die. "A kitten, duh. Isn't she cute? Can I keep her? Can I? Pl _eaase?_ " Dick begged. Bruce's facial expression softened slightly, and, wonder of wonders, he smiled! "All right. You can keep her." "But Master Bruce-!" Alfred protested. Bruce cut him off with a, "He's a growing boy, he needs a pet, Alfred," and thus Midnight joined the household.

* * *

Later, Bruce took him out for ice-cream(though Dick suspected that it was more likely because Alfred had burnt the man's dinner in revenge). Dick licked his triple-chocolate, peanut-butter fudge cone when a shot rang through the alley they'd turned down to hide from the press. "Good grief, if it's the Greeks again I will kill them," Dick mumbled. Bruce appeared to not to have heard, as he was too busy pushing Dick into the shadows. A white faced, green-haired man with blood-red lips and a leering smile stood blocking the exit. "Well, if it isn't Mr. Wayne. Tell me, how is that dreadful circus brat?" The man(Joker, the magical identification spell supplied) grinned, dragging Dick out from the darkness. Hmm. Pretty." The Joker's skeletal fingers gripped his jaw with a surprising amount of force, twisting his head from side to side. "I wonder...how would he look with a few holes in his skull?" _Damm,_ Dick cursed internally, knowing full well that if he used magic to get away from the Joker it would raise some... _questions._ "Let go of him," Bruce growled. The tip of the gun was leveled at his head and Dick tensed, ready to duck the instant there was a distraction. Bruce's eyes narrowed, and Dick ducked as Bruce launched himself at the clown. A second later, the Joker was gone and Bruce was laying on the ground, eyes shut as blood dripped from his side. Dick ran a medical spell, finding that the man had a fractured rib. Dick dialed Alfred's number on Bruce's phone. Soon, a nondescript car pulled into the alley and the English butler got out, helping to carry Bruce into the car.

* * *

**1:47 am**

**The Joker's Base**

Dick slammed the clown into a wall. "If you ever, _ever_ touch a member of my flock*, Joker, I will **_break your fingers, one by one and crucio you_** until you beg for mercy. I will _**submerge you in a vat of poison and acid until you drown and then I will throw you into a Lazarus Pit to revive you.**_ I will _**break**_ every _**bone in your**_ pathetic body. I will _**hurt you like you've never been hurt before, but I will not kill you. You will**_ suffer _**forever.**_ " He whispered, parseltongue intertwining with English. He tossed his limp form to the ground. Satisfied, he turned and melted into the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lamia was one of Zeus's mistresses who Hera killed the children of and cursed into a child eating beast. She is often times depicted as being a beautiful lady with snake skin tied around her waist, though she is sometimes described as being more snake like. I prefer the more snakey one, and drew inspiration from a picture that you can find if you search google for Lamia. It's like the first image that shows up. Dick refers to Bruce as part of his 'flock' because he is part of his 'family'. Water Phoenix Mages have a small part of them that is pure water phoenix. Water phoenixes are very protective of their 'flock members', hence why he acted the way he did.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT-9/8/17  
> I felt that this was too short, as well as containing errors, and therefore went back, combined it with chapter 4 and edited the errors

_He was running, boots pounding the ground as rain poured from the clouds. There was a circle of light ahead, beckoning to him. He knew that if he could get there, everything would be alright. A crackle sounded behind him, and he turned. The Joker stood in a puddle, a knife held loosely in his hand. He looked down, following the blade and nearly choked when he saw where it lay. The steel was pressed against Dick's pale skin, blood rushing out and staining the silver blade and dripping into the water. So much_ blood _. The scene changed, clouds and water and blood fading into the black of the abyss, and voices swirled around him-Dick's, his parents', Alfred's. Their voices, cold, lifeless, dead, all said the same thing over and over and over-_ Your fault. All your fault.

* * *

Bruce woke, feverish and voice hoarse from screaming in his sleep to see Dick's sleeping form awkwardly draped over a chair. He reached out a hand to tuck a lock of the young boy's hair away from his face, barely wincing as he strained the bullet wound. He often sustained worse as Batman in the night. He paused when Dick reached out to grasp at his hand. He squeezed it reassuringly, and laid down, feigning sleep in case Alfred decided to check on him when Dick raised his head, glanced at him a fierce fire in his eyes and mumbled, too quietly for anyone who hadn't been through extensive training, "Don't worry Bruce. The Joker won't _ever_ touch you again. I made sure of it." The youth rose, disentangling his fingers from Bruce's and holding out an arm as if waiting for something, or some _one_. He smiled tiredly when an _enormous_ snowy owl landed on his shoulder. It held out a leg and Dick untied an envelope from it, then fished a doggy treat from out of his pocket and offered it to the bird. All of Bruce's instincts were telling him to get the bird of Dick, but instead, he waited. "Thanks, Hecate." he said affectionately, petting her feathers, "You were my best friend in my last life, and you still are." He left, leaving Bruce to try and get over his shock.

* * *

Dick sighed, staring at the letter in his hands and wondering what to do with it. Apparently, not only did magic exist here, so did magical schools, except that they began schooling at thirteen, not eleven. He cursed his luck, as well as cursing Dumbledore, who was Hogwarts' Headmaster in this world to. He tossed it into the flames, watching in satisfaction as the parchment curled and turned to ash. He would _not_ be leaving Bruce, or Gotham, _ever,_ especially now that he'd begun to work as the cloaked vigilante Nightwing. He pulled a parchment from the other, quickly writing his answer to the invitation on it. He then proceeded onto his other letter. This one was of more importance, as it regarded the location of the rumored 'Batcave', Batman's alleged center of operations. Dick nearly salivated at the thought of finding it and getting a glimpse of the technology. After reading the letter, he sighed in frustration. His source was a dead end, and now he'd followed every trail available. He wandered through the manor and sat in front of one of the many pianos. He ran his fingers over the keys, then randomly hit D6 E6, C7 D7 followed by G6 A6. He gasped when the bookshelf behind it slid open, revealing darkness.

* * *

 

When the lift hit the ground, Dick strode out, blinking in the dark. He uttered a quick Lumos, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the light. When they did, he smiled, then grinned deliriously. He'd done it! He'd found the Batcave! Dick strode(as well as any thirteen-year-old can, that is) around the enormous cavern, reverently running his(gloved of course, so as to not leave fingerprints) hands over the hood of the infamous(among Gotham's criminals) Batmobile, marveling at the state-of-the-art technology. His awe soon turned to anger though, when he realized that the Bat had been _illegally_ using Wayne properties to hide his HQ. _That bastard'll pay,_ Dick vowed. _He'll pay._

* * *

 

Once Dick got back into the Manor, though, he had another problem to deal with-owls. According to Alfred, multiple of them had harassed him while he was outside trimming the rose bushes, pelting him with letters. Dick pinched the bridge of his nose, fending off a headache. He slipped out of the kitchen to set up owl-repelling wards, and to make the Manor magically Unplotable(the magic users didn't bother to learn non-magical means of location, something that had irritated him in his former life). Unfortunately, Alfred had already seen the owls, so...the young Phoenix Mage returned to the kitchen. He silently uttered a spell to disable the cameras for two minutes, and, uttering a quiet apology to the English butler, obliviated him of any memory of the owls' existence.

* * *

 

Dinner that night was a quiet affair, though it was more because Bruce had had to attend some late-night work, which meant that it was only Dick and Alfred, and less because something unpleasant had occurred. Dick excused himself as soon as he finished, eager to suit up and leap across Gotham's rooftops, and, if he was lucky, apprehend Batman. He apparated to the Nest(as he'd begun to call his HQ) and slipped into his costume, then applied his domino mask after checking that it was in mint condition. Grabbing his escrima sticks, Dick disapparated, executing a perfect three-point landing. "Damn it," he growled, cursing his luck. If he'd been a few seconds earlier, he would have been able to catch the Bat. Instead, he only saw the flutter of a black cape flutter through the air and disappear as the Bat leaped from the roof and fell freely downwards. Dick growled once again, leaping after his mark. "There is _no kriffing way_ I am letting you get away," he said, engaging the talons of his suit. The titanium _snicked_ open, glinting briefly in the scant moonlight. They contracted as soon as they met with the fabric of Batman's suit. Dick deftly spread his wings, the black and blue plumage halting their descent. Dick could sense that the Bat was unimpressed. _Alright,_ he thought, _Showtime._ Using magic, he created a silver mist around himself, which, besides looking just plain _cool,_ also made his voice echo and accented his wings and talons(it also messed with his facial features so that no technology could discern his true age or identity). Dick let go of the Bat, calling on the wind to keep him suspended in the air. Using two black blades, he pined the older male to the wall. "This is your only warning," he growled at Batman, the rain around him turning to ice, "Stay out of other peoples' property." He yanked the blades out of the Bat's palms. Dick turned and faded into the night.

* * *

 

The next morning, Bruce awoke, passed out on the Batcomputer to a pounding headache. He had spent the better part of the previous night(not counting the amount of time it had taken Alfred to stitch up his wounds) researching his mysterious attacker. What baffled him, though, was that aside from the records on him(or her) held by the GCPD of sightings, there was nothing else known about them. Bruce let out a sigh as he remembered the vigilante(or villain)'s threat. Somehow, they knew that the Batcave was situated below Wayne property-but how? Of the many heroes that he knew(meta or otherwise), only a handful knew the general location of his HQ, with even fewer knowing the exact location. Bruce frowned. This could prove to be a problem, especially if the attacker was working for his enemies. If they threatened Dick or Alfred in order to get to him...He cut the thought off. No, no matter what, they had to be apprehended. He headed back up to the Manor to apply concealer to his wounds and get ready for the day.

* * *

Bruce nodded absentmindedly at a comment made by one of the department heads. It was tiring to have to hide his true intelligence and act like a to privileged billionaire playboy when in reality he could easily run circles around any of the people in the room. Sometimes he would accidentally make an intelligent observation, but be forced to do something ridiculous in order to maintain his façade. Being 'Brucie' was exhausting, as it meant that he had to monitor his actions and words very carefully while appearing to be a bumbling buffoon. In comparison, playing the Bat was...freeing, as the cowl offered anonymity, allowing him to be himself. It didn't hurt that as Batman, he was nearly invulnerable, more than a mere man, a symbol of justice to the innocent, and a dark shadow of retribution to be feared by Gotham's underworld. He mentally shook his head free of thoughts, focusing on the debate that was taking place between the Head of Research and Development(or R&D) and the Head of Finance Management about the funding for the newest WayneTech computers. The Head of Finance was saying something about how the computers were too futuristic to be profitable(if only they knew  _just_ how futurist it was-Bruce was pretty certain the model they were referring to was the one with 23rd century technology from Earth-26), while the Head of R&D was arguing that it was just what Wayne Enterprises needed to firmly cement their place as top technology innovating company, leaving LexCorp leagues behind them(Bruce figured that it didn't count as copyright infringement as A)it didn't technically exist yet, and B)was given to him by his alternate self from that Earth-though how he'd managed to survive to be nearly four hundred years old evaded him~perhaps humans in that reality simply lived longer). Both of them wound up looking to him for advice. Great, now he had to try and come up with an acceptable answer while making it seem like it wasn't his answer at all. "Gentlemen," Bruce said, raising his hand placatingly, "Mr. Fox  ** _assures_** me that this venture will be  ** _quite_** profitable." He mentally patted himself on the back for a skillful non-answer as the two settled down, mollified, and the discussion continued onto other topics.

* * *

Later, when the meeting was finally done, it was time for interviews. Bruce scanned the list of reporters. He was pleased to see that the first name on the list was Clark Kent-he needed to talk to Superman about the possible new meta in Gotham, but Kal had not been answering his calls.

**_{Insert standard interview that is too boring to mention}_ **

Bruce lowered his voice, "Kal, there is a vigilante, possibly a meta in Gotham. I need you to see if you can dig up any intel on them." Clark's brow furrowed. If Bruce was asking for help, the situation had to be serious. "Do we have a name?" he asked. Bruce nodded sharply, then handed him a black thumb drive with a blue band. "This contains the information I was able to find. It is encrypted, and once run through a decoder program-use the 32nd-century Kryptonian one-will translate into binary code-then use the code  to translate it into English." Clark nodded, "Got it," he said, taking the thumb drive, "I'm on it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe you're wondering, "why "Hecate" and not "Hedwig"?", it comes (according to "behindthename. com") from the german Hedu"battle, combat" and wig"war". Hecate is the Greek goddess of magic, which seemed more fitting. And our little bird is about to discover something monumental. Don't worry about it too much. And yes, I looked up the key sequence, so I'm pretty sure it's correct. Anyway, next chapter, Brucie as the Big Bad Bat has his first encounter with Nightwing*squeals*! And yes, it will be the blue-and-black, not the red-and-black one as I prefer the former. I'll also be writing a one-shot(set in the future about ten years) of when Batsy and 'Wing meet Damian. Can't say much without giving it away, but...It's amazing what can be created with a DNA sample, the correct equipment and influence from being Ra's Al Ghul's daughter.  
> Hmm. Perhaps I made Dick a bit to violent. Ah well. I like him as a Damian-ish figure. My Nightwing costume doesn't stray to far from canon, except for the talons(ahh, the irony) and his wings, which are like Red Robin's, but in black and blue. As to why Dick didn't use magic to scan and see who Batsy was-this only shows the person's true name, which isn't always their given name, so while it works when the person's true name is their given name(which is most people), with a certain level of mental control, one can alter their true name to be different from their given name, totally confusing the person doing the scan. In this case, Bruce has two true names, one for his 'civilian' life(he has met Zatana, so he knows that true names exist and that there are other magic users out there who will use this spell to try and find out who he is) and one for his 'night-time activities'. If you're wondering weather Dick actually stuck knives into Bruce's palms, the answer is yes, he did. That was inspired by a scene from Son of Batman, cuz I thought it was AWESOME how Damian as a 9-year-old can yank his hand through a freaking knife! Enough ranting though. I sincerely apologize for the late update and short chapter. School has been hectic, to say the least, and I've been trying to cram everything into, like, 4 days. I should be able to update within the next 10 days, hopefully with a chapter that actually reaches 1k words.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd, cause Goldenmoonrider thought it didn't need anything :) I apologize for the length

Bruce had returned from the board meeting to find Alfred waiting for him in the Batcave. He slumped into a chair, taking the cup of coffee offered to him. "If I may, Master Bruce, what is troubling you?"

Bruce had returned from the board meeting to find Alfred waiting for him in the Batcave. He slumped into a chair, taking the cup of coffee offered to him. "If I may, Master Bruce, what is troubling you?"

Bruce gave a sigh, "What gave me away this time Alfred?"

"I have my ways," the Englishman replied mysteriously, placing the tea-tray onto a nearby table.

Bruce clenched his fist in frustration,"I can't find anything,  _anything,_ Alfred! It's like they never  _existed_ \- not even a ghost trail!"

"Perhaps-" Alfred began, only to be cut off when a high, shrill yell pierced through the air, quickly followed by an intruder alert for the Manor popping up. Bruce deftly pulled up the video feed for the area that the alarm had been tripped from, only to begin typing furiously.

"Someone managed to loop the cameras," Bruce stated, "Fortunately, whoever hacked the system didn't anticipate that I'd have backup cameras that aren't included in any blueprint. It'll take me a minute to access them, though. Alfred, I need you to go check up on Dick, make sure he's alright."

The butler turned, taking the lift up to the Manor. Satisfied, Bruce turned back to the computer. A few lines of code later, he was in, checking to make sure everything was there. As far as he could tell, everything was- wait, Dick's room was empty. Panic gripped his mind, but he pushed the emotion aside.  _Focus,_ he commanded himself,  _Dick is probably with Alfred on the way down._ The lift dinged, signaling that it had arrived. Bruce stalked over to it, waiting for the doors to open. When they did, only Alfred was in it. Eyes misty, he handed a note to Bruce. His eyes scanned the page, and his fingers slackened, the paper fluttering to the ground.

It landed writing facing upward, reading in blood-red ink:  _Wayne. Bring the neutron bomb to 444, Mortality Ave. by midnight or the boy dies._

* * *

 

"We have the decoy bomb, don't we Alfred?"

"Of course Master Bruce."

"Good."

* * *

 

Bruce strode out of the back door of the Manor, only to be confronted by two League of Shadows ninjas, dressed in black armor, wielding two micro-ceramic blades*. They forced him to retreat back into the Manor, as he was unarmed.

Bounding into the weapons display room, Bruce stretched out a hand to grab his own blade, only to stop when a quiet, familiar voice said, "Drop the blade, Wayne, or the boy dies." Turning around, he was greeted by an all-too familiar figure dressed in green and gold, hair only slightly whiter than their last encounter pressing a blade to Dick's throat hard enough to draw a small line of blood. Bruce dropped the katana to the ground.

"Ra's al Ghul." he greeted frostily, "I should have known."

"Hand over the bomb and the boy will...survive." the Demon's Head replied.

Bruce reached a hand into the inner pocket of his suit, only for the lights to flicker and go out. A moment later, three thuds sounded and the lights snapped back on bathing a blue and black winged figure in a pale gold light. The figure, Nightwing, bent over the two League of Shadows assassins, as well as Ra's al Ghul, checking their pulse. Roped appeared from thin air, coiling around each one before Nightwing snapped his fingers, causing them to disappear. Then, he (Bruce was fairly certain that Nightwing was male from his earlier encounter with the possible meta) disappeared as well, and the lights flicked off once again before they flicked back on. Dick stood, stretching.

"Well," he said, "I was honestly expecting my first kidnapping to be more dramatic."

"Don't  _ever_ do that again, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" Bruce scolded.

"Yes, old man." Dick joked, walking with Bruce.

"Good, let's see if Alfred's done with his scones," Bruce said, "I'm starving."

Later, after Dick went to bed, Bruce's new meta alarm sounded, jolting the occupants of the Batcave into action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Nano-ceramic- Not sure if this is real, but in Spider-Man/Deadpool Vol.1 Deadpool's katanas are made of this, and they can cut through Spidey's webs, so I figured that it would be a good material to use.


End file.
